


Capitulation

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Impaired Judgment (and other excuses) [7]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 05:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13265004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: “What’s up with you?” Raf asks.“Nothing,” Jared says.Raf gives some good ‘I’m not buying it’ face.“I may have agreed to go for that ride,” Jared admits.





	Capitulation

Jared doesn’t think about Marcus that night. He doesn’t think about Marcus, or his flashy car, or why he got so flustered, why they both did, when all that ride’s going to be is Marcus showing off. Driving too fast, probably. Fast and with the roof down so that their hair blows everywhere and they can’t say a word. It’s not going to be anything special. Jared’s never driven in a convertible before, but he’s driven with the window down and he’s gone on fast rides. It’ll be a car plus wind. Cool, whatever. Marcus is going to find him distinctly unimpressed.

 _Please go to sleep_ , he begs himself, and eventually his body relents, because Jared’s relaxed. Cool. Not worried about this.

Also pretty sleep deprived, to be honest.

*

Getting a half-decent night of sleep isn’t quite enough to cut into the sleep deficit he’s got. Jared isn’t sure that’s actually a thing you can make up for, but if you can, he definitely hasn’t. Still, he’s less of a red-eyed zombie this morning, just in time to be tense as _fuck_. 

It must have been the sleep deprivation getting him to agree to go with Marcus. That has to be it. There is no other reasonable explanation. He should go over and tell Marcus that he changed his mind, or that Marcus missed his chance yesterday, or that, haha, Jared never actually meant it, joke’s on you, let’s go back to verbal sparring, or like, Jared completely losing control of his mouth and Marcus getting in snits. That sounds safer. Jared should definitely do that.

Jared doesn’t lose control of his mouth when Marcus comes over during free weights. Or, he does, kind of, because he can’t manage to say anything at all, tongue-tied as Marcus puts a hand on his shoulder, pushing down and making Jared bend his knees a bit more. 

“Better,” Marcus says, after Jared, still mute, does a rep that way. 

“Could have just told him to bend his knees more,” Raf says as Marcus walks off, too low for anyone but Jared to hear, and Jared feels his face heating again.

*

Jared’s cheeks feel scorched by the time they hit lunch. He’s looking forward to getting on the ice for that reason, half considering putting his _face_ against it, because he’s had three different dudes ask if he’s feeling sick. Stupid blotchy skin. It’s annoying enough that he comes out of every game looking like he just spent a week in Florida refusing to wear sunscreen, this is intolerable.

Raf wasn’t one of the guys asking if he wasn’t feeling well, even though he was the one hanging by him all morning, and Jared was thankful for that, but apparently the breaking point for him is a restless leg.

“You’re bouncing your knee,” Raf says.

“Sorry,” Jared says, tries to split his focus between his food and keeping his knee still.

“You’re doing it again,” Raf says a couple minutes later, which means Jared has definitely failed. Damn you, food distraction.

Jared mumbles another apology and tucks one foot behind the other, hoping that will fix it. 

“What’s up with you?” Raf asks. 

“Nothing,” Jared says.

Raf gives some good ‘I’m not buying it’ face.

“I may have agreed to go for that ride,” Jared admits.

Raf’s face is now doing something Jared disapproves of.

“Stop smirking,” Jared says.

“I’m not smirking,” Raf says, but he is absolutely smirking. 

“He didn’t mean it like that,” Jared says. “Grow up, dude.”

“So you’re just going to drive around the burbs or something?” Raf asks. “That’s it?”

“And like, maybe dinner, he said,” Jared says, feeling suddenly self-conscious. It sounds weird when he’s telling Raf about it. More like the way Raf says it. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Raf protests.

“Shut up anyway,” Jared says.

“Okay,” Raf says peaceably, and digs into his salad.

“Okay, say something,” Jared says. The crunching’s getting to him.

“You said shut up,” Raf says.

“I’m a teenager,” Jared says. “I’m supposed to be fickle.”

Raf snorts. “Okay,” he says. “Like, what do you think is actually going on here?”

“It’s just Marcus showing off,” Jared says. “Quit making a big thing about it.”

“I’m not,” Raf says. “You’re the one—”

“I’ve decided you should shut up again,” Jared says, with great dignity.

Raf laughs and goes back to eating his salad. “Knee,” he says, after a few bites.

Jared groans and tucks his feet up. Can’t bounce if there’s nothing to bounce against. Try to figure your way around that, knee.

“Shoes off the furniture, Matheson, this isn’t your house!” Evanson calls across the room. 

Jared groans loudly and pretends he doesn’t hear Raf laughing at him.

*

Jared is once again a distracted mess during drills in the afternoon. He gets asked about a fever again, this time by no less than Evanson, with this half-concerned half-exasperated face when he talks about Jared slipping in the last couple days.

“You’re one of the most promising kids here,” Evanson says, in a way that makes Jared feel guilty.

“Sorry,” Jared says. “Just been sleeping like sh— hell. Crap, I mean.”

No one thinks hell’s a swear word but Jared’s grandma, right? Like, there is no way anyone but Jared’s grandma thinks that. Still, just in case.

“Fix your shit,” Evanson says, then skates away while Jared gapes at him.

“Evanson _swore_ at me,” Jared says. 

Raf’s laughing at him again.

*

Jared doesn’t have a watch, because obviously, and his phone’s in the locker room, but he can physically feel time ticking down, and he knows the end of the day’s coming before Evanson even raises the whistle to his lips. He gets out of his gear quick, takes a longer than usual shower because it’s not like he’s _eager_ , even though the water pressure’s crap and the stream’s lukewarm and also no matter how many times he does it, communal showering is weird. Especially uncomfortable because he knows what some of these assholes would act like if they knew he was gay — as if he would want any of those fuckers.

Walking outside is like hitting a wall of heat. Jared can practically feel his hair drying on the spot. It’s usually dry out, but there’s something in the air, like maybe rain’s coming, and the humidity is brutal. Not good convertible weather, obviously. He should…not do this. Even if the weather didn’t suck for anything but sitting in front of AC, Jared’s got plenty of reasons not to do this. For all he knows Marcus is a serial killer. He’s pretty sure ‘don’t get into cars with strangers’ is Stranger Danger 101. He probably learned it in preschool.

And yet here he is, preparing to get in Marcus’ stupid, jumped up car, literally just months after Marcus totaled another car. Unless maybe it’s the same car? Is he getting into an accident car?

He’s so dumb. Why is he so dumb? What is this supposed to prove?

“I’m rethinking every decision I’ve ever made in my life,” Jared says to Raf, who is thankfully beside him. Jared might be still hiding in the locker room if he didn’t have a Raf buffer to walk him out.

“I do that a lot,” Raf says.

Jared looks over at him.

“What?” Raf says.

Jared shrugs. Raf doesn’t seem like a rethinking every decision he’s ever made person — or, for that matter, like a person who makes any decisions that need rethinking — but honestly it’s not like Jared’s known him long enough to tell, and he didn’t sound like he was joking when he said it. Maybe regular season Raf is a Marcus-esque mess. 

Jared doubts that. He also doubts Marcus even knows _how_ to rethink decisions, judging by the stories about him.

And Jared is going to get in a _car_ with this guy.

“If I die in a car crash please tell my parents I love them,” Jared says. “And tell my sister she can’t have my TV.”

“Why not?” Raf asks. “You won’t need it if you’re dead.”

“Because she’s a brat and I’m spiteful,” Jared says, then, because he knows _exactly_ what Raf is going to say somehow, “Shut up forever.”

“Okay,” Raf says, which obviously isn’t shutting up forever, then, “Hey, there’s my bus.”

Jared is suddenly very tempted to do something desperate, like clutch Raf’s arm and tell him never to leave him. Maybe Raf wants to go on a ride too. There’s only two seats in the dumb car, but they could take turns or something.

Okay, that sounds _filthy_. Jared blames Raf and his dirty mind.

“Have a good weekend,” Jared says weakly.

“Don’t die,” Raf says, and gives him this casual wave and walks off before Jared can wrap his arms around his knees and make him stay or anything. Some friend.

Marcus exits the building basically immediately after Raf leaves, like the worst kind of coincidence. Or like maybe that makes sense because Marcus probably had a coaches’ (and whatever Marcus is) scrum after they left. Whatever. Same difference. He’s wearing sunglasses already. It’s sunny outside, so it’s not like sunglasses don’t make sense, but he was wearing them when he walked out, which means he put them on _inside_. That’s like opening an umbrella inside level of wrong. 

Jared’s mom’s car is _right there_. He could totally make a break for it before Marcus could catch up. Instead he’s rooted to the spot, prey once again. His body is betraying him.

“Hey,” Marcus says. “You waited.”

“You took your time,” Jared says, like he’s waited more than five seconds. 

“So—” Marcus says.

“Okay, ground rules,” Jared interrupts.

Marcus raises his eyebrows behind his douchey sunglasses that probably cost more than all of Jared’s hockey gear combined. And his parents bought the best shit they could afford. Maybe better than they could afford. Thank fuck for the WHL.

“No going past the speed limit,” Jared says.

“No one goes the speed limit,” Marcus says. “I go the speed limit and they’ll probably think I’m stoned.”

Jared will maybe give him that, because if they went the speed limit they’d get tailgated to hell. He’s even feeling generous enough not to ask whether Marcus knows the stoned thing from experience.

“Nothing that’d get you pulled over, then,” Jared says. “And definitely nothing that’d get you arrested on the side of the road. Though I know that’s like, a hobby for you.”

Jared can’t tell behind the sunglasses, but he’s pretty sure Marcus is rolling his eyes at him. Whatever. Jared’s not being unreasonable, considering Marcus’ very public history.

“Anything else?” Marcus asks, and Jared could probably make a list, but he’s suddenly gone mute again. “You okay, Matheson?” Marcus asks, the billionth caller today. And man, if Marcus is noticing, Jared must be a _mess_.

“Fine,” Jared snaps, spurred into action. They’ll go on this dumb ride, and Marcus will be a douche, and Jared will get whatever it is that’s making him act like a high-strung maniac with a fever out of his system, and it’ll be fine. Easy. He’ll endure this stupid ride in Marcus’ stupid car and in two weeks camp will be over and Marcus will go back to whatever idiotic shit he does when he’s not on the ice and Jared will forget all about whatever temporary insanity he’s experiencing here, and it’ll be fine.

“Anything else?” Marcus repeats, and it takes Jared a second to realise Marcus is referring to Jared’s ground rules, which have all escaped him.

“Don’t get us arrested,” Jared manages. That’s all he’s got.

“I promise,” Marcus says.

“Okay,” Jared says, and follows Marcus to his car like a lemming or a sycophant. It’s very red. Gleaming. Jared stares at it while Marcus takes the roof off, slides into the driver’s seat. It’s too hot for this. Jared should mention that. Jared needs an excuse.

“You getting in or what?” Marcus asks, and obviously the answer should be ‘or what, because my parents _definitely_ told me not to get into cars with strange men and you qualify’, but before Jared’s even finished thinking that, he finds himself sitting in the front seat of the car. It smells like new car and leather and expensive. Everything’s shiny polished. There isn’t an empty cup or trash or anything. It’s immaculate. Jared’s more impressed by the cleanliness than he by is the car itself. He would have expected Marcus to leave junk all over the place. 

“Buckle up,” Marcus says, flashing him one of those bright, not as charming as he thinks they are grins, and barely even waits for Jared to do so before he’s peeling out of the lot.


End file.
